


Serpent's Sting

by Padjal_Protector



Series: Tales from the Twelveswood [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:46:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21856267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Padjal_Protector/pseuds/Padjal_Protector
Summary: Even 'bad luck' is some kind of luck, right?
Series: Tales from the Twelveswood [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1504505
Kudos: 2





	Serpent's Sting

**Author's Note:**

> This is short again because I'm trying to get things down/continue in bursts I suppose.

Van thought his good fortune in being assigned as an escort for the Elder Seedseer had been a one-time thing. Pure dumb luck that he was available, and absolutely an isolated incident. As much as it left him a bit wistful to think about, certainly that would be the only time it would be feasible that he could spend time with her more or less alone.

No matter! It was extraordinary luck to have been able to share even that afternoon with the woman. He hadn’t been the most compelling conversationalist, nor particularly charming, but it was difficult when Kan-E herself was all those things and more. It was certainly something to be able to learn a little more about her, though it was likely things everyone who had lived in Gridania already knew. The woman was accomplished, she was a fit leader for the City State, and Van found himself even more fascinated by Kan-E with everything she talked about. Van was downright giddy when he’d left. He’d be thinking about her smile and laugh for weeks to come. 

Though, fortune smiled on him. It seemed his ‘one time thing’ hadn’t turned out to be just so. 

Vantelmont had received word again while training with recruits. The missive was handed to him this time not by whimsical moogle messenger, but from an officer. It took the entirety of his willpower not to let it show too much on his face, his surprise. He hadn’t trusted his composure, with good reason, and made a point to look away almost distractedly as he looked to the missive in his hands. 

The same emblem, the same neat, official script, the very same request of him, but without any of the time in between to prepare. Rather than cut the training session short, he passed the reigns to a fellow officer before taking his leave. If anyone, recruit or officer, noticed the distracted look on his face, they sure didn’t say anything about it. 

Benevolent, really. 

He promptly arrived at Nophica’s Altar with slightly less hesitation in handing the missive over to the silent conjurer stationed at the entrance to the Lotus Stand, The prospect of spending any iota of time with Kane-E was enough to push back most of his nerves. 

  
Most, but not all, of course. 

As kind and warm as her eyes were when they had regarded him, just her attention on him had sent Van into new peaks of anxiety. It sent his idiot heart a flutter and he knew he was being ridiculous, but couldn’t help it.

Never the less. 

He tried not to feel too disappointed to see her guards there, admonishing himself for the thought simply because it was a rather selfish desire, wasn’t it? He had to remind himself that this was work related and composed himself. Only a passing glance toward the pair of elezen and the hyur standing behind the diminutive Elder Seedseer. Grand Serpent Marshal Brookstone was there, which took Van off guard momentarily until he dragged his mind back to the official nature of things. A respectful salute, and just as respectful silence as he awaited something more of an explanation for his summons. 

Of course even then his glance wandered just a moment, to her. Looking serene, bathed in the gentle sunlight that illuminated her white robes and golden hair she did paint a picture of the same purity and sanctity of the City-State she led. 

Another mental slap to himself.

He could daydream later.

The more he focused on that, the more he managed to keep his composure. He listened to the Elder Seedseer’s questions, and recalled the reports he’d made the last few weeks. His patrols and communications between the Wood Wailers had made plain noticeable Ixal activity closest to the Yellow Serpent Gate than was comfortable. Thus far, he'd yet to truly cross the beastmen in his patrols, but all the signs of their approach were evident.

It was supposed to be simple. The Seedseer’s desire to go to the locations specified in the reports, to see and hear what the Elementals may allow to be gleamed from the Ixal’s boldness to venture closer. Van had expected to be dismissed, but since he’d been on those specified patrols, Grand Serpent Marshal Brookstone delegated the task to him. 

It was supposed to be very simple. Guide the Seedseer and her Serpent Guards to the locations they’d noticed activity, nothing complicated. 

As with most things presumed to be simple, it had absolutely gone sideways. No sooner had they examined one of the places noted in the reports, than the chaos of an ambush came down upon them. Bolstered by the Wood Wailers patrolling nearby, the ensuing skirmish had resulted in a few dead Ixal, some at the end of Van’s own lance. His mind had been racing, and he’d barely had a chance to process having killed the beastmen himself. It shellshocked him. 

In fact, it wasn’t until the ringing in his ears slowed that he felt his arm go limp, his lance near clattering from his abruptly loosened grip. The adrenaline starting to wear off, now, the pain began to shoot up his arm in waves. A look down at his now torn uniform showed clearly the injury that came from an Ixal’s rough blade sinking into his forearm. Deeply. Deep enough that had more force been behind it or the weapon of better make, it might’ve taken the limb clear off. 

Stuck in the shock of the wound, and frankly the sheer amount of blood pouring from it, the elezen dropped to a kneel. Wide eyed and unsure of what to do, his free hand trembling, hovering near the wound and hesitating all the same. Snapping him from that near panicked fog was the distant sound of tearing fabric. Ice blue eyes snapped upward, toward the familiar silhouette of the Seedseer alongside him. His mouth felt dry, despite trying to find his voice nothing came. 

The tearing sound he thought had been his sleeve, but no. Now he could see it was from the bottom edge of Kan-E’s own robes. A strip of it was in her hands, and hastily but with practiced ease, she began tying it above the wound tightly. He stayed perfectly still, or he thought at least, there was little to do about the trembling. The pain punctuated any thoughts in his head, trying to keep himself composed and staring at her as she worked. Whatever her guards were saying to her, was distant and muffled in Van’s head...and apparently she was ignoring their words as they ended up simply keeping alert around them instead.

When she began trying to heal the wound with conjury, it was like a lightning bolt right through his veins, like a sudden, searing heat. Van had never been healed by conjury, but he’d anticipated something different, he’d expected soothing warmth. Perhaps it was because the wound was so deep and Van himself utterly unused to the sensation of conjury. It was like his very aether sparked and roiled beneath his flesh, combating the conjury she cast. Teeth grit, he tried not to make obvious the shock that had gone through him. 

She noticed, though. As those green eyes fixed on him, concern on her features, she seemed to slow her ministrations on the wound. Slowly, the searing sensation began to ebb back. He avoided looking to the wound, which was just as well as his attention was on her even when she turned her gaze back to the matter at hand. 

He cursed himself for his dumbfounded silence. It was like he could hear the rushing of his own blood through his ears, it was like a subdued blowing of the wind in the trees above them. Van tried to formulate his words in his head, slowly, before croaking them out. 

“I did not think to anticipate they would have advanced closer-”

Eyes still on her work, she inclined her head slightly toward him before speaking. When she spoke, it was soft and barely audible unless they were as close to her as he was in that moment. 

“Of the two of us, I’m the one with such foresight.” Her tone was a mix between soothing and again, that very slight hint of teasing. When they had spoken previously, she'd made mention of the prophetic visions that she'd experienced in her youth. Sure, something everyone in Gridania knew, but it had been different getting to hear it directly from her. Once more, she spoke to him as if speaking to a friend. If her intent was to put him at ease, in truth she could’ve said just about anything and it would’ve slowly calmed him. “Can you stand?”

A feverish nod, suddenly very aware of himself and the situation once more. Aware of his own mis-step that led to the injury at all. There would be plenty of time to agonize over his own failings later, though. 

“I-yes. Now I...should be able.” He near stammered, looking to the now remarkably mended wound. Still a bit bloodied, and if left as it was it might scar, but flesh had been woven back whole by the Seedseer’s conjury. It ached some, if he was honest, but being healed at all in this particular way was a bit of a new experience for him. 

She stood, movements graceful and not at all phased at the clear blood upon her white robes or the torn edges of the hem. It was as though she didn’t notice it. Van might’ve been surprised if he didn’t remind himself the woman had led her forces on the bloody fields of Carteneu. 

Van wasn’t quite as graceful as she was. Almost unsteadily, he rose, taking his lance back from one of her guards. He couldn't look at her, he thought, but at the same time couldn't avoid looking at her. Any time she was anywhere, his gaze was inevitably back on her. 

  
The way back was thankfully uneventful. Once in the city proper, just before they parted, Kan-E slowed and gave Van’s newly-healed arm one last look over. The physical contact was brief, but the concern on her features lingered some. 

“Return to the Lotus Stand on the morrow. I shall examine it again.” She paused, smiling now. “I do not wish to alarm you, there was simply something peculiar I would keep an eye on.” 

He nodded, stupidly, before hastily saluting the woman and turning to head back to the Adder’s Nest. There was a report to amend and all that! His face felt heated, though he was unsure if it was being slightly overwhelmed by it all, or if that was just the effect she had on him in general. It could’ve been both, for all he knew.

When the elezen returned to the privacy of his home, the bloodied uniform was set aside and he sat there, looking at where mere hours ago a vicious wound had been. The cut had been near bone-deep, there’d been so much blood. Absentmindedly, he twisted the strip of the cloth off her robes which she’d fashioned into the make-shift tourniquet between his fingers. His fingers which he could still move quite well, thanks to being healed so quickly. No nerve damage, he’d be able to wield his lance as if nothing had happened. Though, he would not forget it happened. Learning from his mistakes would be the only way to progress, the only way to get stronger and be someone worth protecting the Twelveswood and all who dwelled within it. A conjurer of Kan-E's skills wouldn't always be at the ready on the battlefield to heal him, after all.

His brow knit in worry, though. She mentioned something peculiar, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out just what that might be. While he would admit his initial reaction to the healing had been tension and a searing feeling, he wasn’t sure if that was really cause for concern. She’d done well, after all, how could she not? She was Padjal, she was a white mage, she was...amazing.

The worry on his features gave way to looking a little dazed and possibly a little stupid.   
Despite the situation likely just being a quick check on the injury he’d foolishly let himself suffer, it did mean he got to see her again. 

At this point, like some boy with a crush, he’d take what he could get. 


End file.
